


Deadly Origin

by capsiclewidow



Series: The Tightly Tangled Web [4]
Category: Black Widow (Movie 2020), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:27:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25239220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capsiclewidow/pseuds/capsiclewidow
Summary: "At some point we all have to choose between what the world wants you to be...and who you are. I made my choice. I'm done running."
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov, Yelena Belova & Natasha Romanov
Series: The Tightly Tangled Web [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1416916
Comments: 17
Kudos: 104





	Deadly Origin

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, here's the deal.
> 
> This is not how I wanted to post this fic. The original plan was to finish Deadly Origin once Black Widow came out, post it, and then move on from there. However, due to circumstances I'm sure we are all very well aware of, that didn't happen. I realize I could have just skipped Black Widow altogether and not considered it canon in this fic, but to be perfectly honest the timeline and all of the things Natasha is going through in the film line up pretty close to what I was planning to do in the first place. Plus, I'm a perfectionist. So I want Black Widow to be canon in this series.
> 
> So here's my new plan: I will be posting the **last chapter** of this fic, because it's vitally important to how the rest of the series unfolds. When (well, _if_ ) Black Widow comes out in November, I'll edit this fic and add the rest of it. Unconventional, yes, but that's the best I've got because I really don't want to extend the hiatus on this series until the end of the year. And I can't just skip the last chapter, because...well, you'll see. It's important. 
> 
> I sincerely appreciate everyone's patience while I figure all of this out. It means so much to me that I still get messages asking when there will be an update, especially since I've had zero motivation to write despite being quarantined for three out of the last four months. I've put so much time and effort into this fic that I want it to be perfect, so from the bottom of my heart: thank you.
> 
> With all of that being said, I highly recommend reading Old Wounds, No Surrender, and Casualties of War before continuing. Otherwise you'll be a lil confused ;)
> 
> Title comes from the comic Black Widow: Deadly Origin (2009-2010). Rating is for language and mild implied sexual content.

It was late when Steve finally made it back to his motel room. It had been another long day of following leads that went nowhere, and he was beginning to think the one that had led him here in the first place had been complete and utter bullshit. There was no evidence whatsoever that Natasha had been in the area recently, and this whole thing was starting to feel like a waste of time.

He let out a long sigh when he reached the room he’d been living out of for the last week, pausing with his hand resting on the doorknob. Maybe Sam had been right. At this point, his best bet was to meet back up with him and Wanda, regroup, and start over. Maybe try to get ahold of Clint. It was a long shot considering he had been on house arrest for the last few months and any communication was most likely being heavily monitored, but he had to have at least _some_ idea where Natasha would go. She had safe houses everywhere, and the only person who would know the location of at least some of them was Clint.

With his mind half-heartedly made up, Steve twisted the knob and pushed the door open. He dropped the key tiredly on the counter of the tiny kitchenette and was about to shrug off his jacket when a sudden wave of discomfort shot through him. Like someone had been there. Like he was being _watched_.

His hand twitched towards his back where he’d tucked a pistol in the waistband of his jeans. He glanced around the dark room, suddenly much more alert than he had been when he’d walked in. And then he saw it: a pair of eyes watching him from the shadowy corner of the room, glittering green and blue and gold in the darkness.

Suddenly he forgot how to move, forgot how to _breathe_ , and all he could do was stare back. A million things flashed through his mind, too many at once. Everything he’d wanted to say to her, everything he _should_ have said to her months ago, all jumbled into a mess at the tip of his tongue. So he stared, unable to form a single coherent thought, unable to comprehend the fact that she was actually _here,_ that she’d found him.

And she was _blonde_.

“You dyed your hair.”

She’d cut it, too, but the color was what threw him off the most. It was platinum blonde, almost silver in the shadows of the room. She had the front of it braided off to the side, and it fell to hang a few inches off of her shoulders. She didn’t respond, but Steve noticed the way she stiffened at the sound of his voice, just slightly, just enough that he could see the way she shifted uncomfortably.

“How’d you find me?”

“You’ve been following me,” she replied lowly. “You suck at it.”

It was phrased as a joke, like she was teasing him, like nothing had changed. Except for the way she’d said it, her voice soft and with an edge of coldness to it. He’d gotten better at reading her over the last few years, but this time he couldn’t. She was icy cool, using every bit of the spy training in her to keep herself calm.

“I’ve been trying to find you,” Steve replied finally, once he found his voice.

“Well, I’m here.” She paused, tilting her head a bit, though her expression remained unchanged. “So what do you want?”

“I...”

He trailed off, his voice getting stuck in his throat. _You_. That was the truth. He _missed_ her. The guilt, the nightmares, the regret…it was too much to handle without her there. She’d always kept him grounded, and without her he was lost.

“I was…worried. About you.”

“I can take care of myself,” she replied cooly, almost as a reflex.

“I know you can. That doesn’t mean you have to.”

“Doesn’t it?” she snapped. “Who the hell else am I gonna call, the _Avengers?_ ”

“You could have called _me_ ,” he replied softly, guilt flooding through him. The last thing he’d ever want was for Natasha to think he’d abandoned her, that she couldn’t rely on him. She just huffed out a humorless laugh.

“No I couldn’t.”

“Of course you-“

“Steve, the last real conversation we had was two months ago and it ended with you storming out after I told you to go fuck yourself.”

“That doesn’t mean-“ Steve paused, letting out a frustrated sigh. “You still could have called me.”

“Well, I handled it. I’m _fine_.”

“No you’re not.”

She just stared at him, her mouth opening and closing like she couldn’t find the words to reply. And then she gave up, averting her gaze and staring down at the floor instead.

“Maybe I’m not,” she said finally, her voice low and bitter. “But when has that ever mattered?”

“Of _course_ it matters,” Steve replied softly, his heart aching at her words. She continued to stare at the floor. “Nat-“

“I don’t even know why I came here,” she said suddenly, and before Steve could protest she was stepping out of her dark corner. She ducked her head as she brushed past him towards the door.

 _“Natasha._ ”

He reached for her arm, and she stiffened when his fingers wrapped gently around it. He turned her back towards him, but when he did, he saw her wince. She seemed to notice and looked horrified at the reaction for a split second, especially when he saw her face.

He hadn’t noticed the bruises on her temple from where she’d been standing before, but now that the dark splotches weren’t camouflaged by the shadows, they were quite obvious. The more he studied her he also noticed the partially-healed split lip, the way she favored her left side, and how she tensed when he twisted her around, inhaling sharply when she moved.

Finally he met her eyes. The cracks were there when they hadn’t been before, widening enough for him to see beyond her practiced cool exterior. His brow furrowed, and as if she could read his mind, she averted her gaze.

“I’m fine,” she said softly, before he got a chance to ask. She met his gaze again, the corner of her lips ticking upwards into a crooked smile that didn’t meet her eyes. “Just a couple bruised ribs. I’ve had worse.”

Steve’s frown deepened as the concern bubbled up inside of him. Before he thought to stop himself he was reaching for her, sliding his fingers under her t-shirt and pulling it up so her could assess the damage. She tensed when his skin brushed across hers but she didn’t protest, and he dropped his gaze to her midsection.

Sure enough there was more bruising, some of it turning a mottled yellowish green, starting at her waist and disappearing underneath the sports bra she had on under her t-shirt. He brushed his fingertips lightly across the worst of it and she inhaled softly at his touch but didn’t move, letting him feel for any breaks or signs of a more serious injury.

Satisfied, he turned his attention to the bruising on her face. He grazed the tips of his fingers across her temple, pushing back the wisps of blonde that had fallen out of her braid to see how far back on her scalp it went.

“Steve.” His name came out barely more than a whisper, and he lifted his eyes to meet hers again. She was still watching him, her eyes wide. She had that vulnerable look on her face, the one he’d only seen a few times but always made his heart race, knowing she was allowing to see her, _really_ see her. “I’m okay.”

Suddenly Steve realized how close they were. He’d let his hand fall to her hip, just under the hem of her shirt, and the other one came to rest on the side of her face. He’d somehow moved closer to her, so close that he could feel the heat from her skin and her shallow breaths, could almost hear her heart where it thumped against her ribcage. She reached up to rest her palm against his chest and for a second he thought she might push him away, but she didn’t. Instead her fingers curled lightly around his jacket and she adjusted herself closer. Not by much, but enough that if he just bent down, just a little bit more…

But he couldn’t. He wanted to - _god_ he wanted to, he’d thought of nothing else since the last time he’d seen her. But it wasn’t that simple. It had _never_ been simple with them. They’d always been complicated, and always would be.

Bucky’s voice suddenly echoed in his mind. _Make it that simple._

By the time his brain caught up with him and he made up his mind, he was already ducking his head towards her. He rested his forehead against hers, lingering, letting her stop him if she wanted to. But she seemed to be frozen, her fingers curling tighter into the leather of his jacket the closer he got. He knew he shouldn’t, he _knew_ they had a lot of shit to work out, but being there, being so close to her - feeling her soft breaths against his nose and feeling the way she was melting into him - it was too much. Just the act of being so close after so many months, after the gut-wrenchingly horrible way they’d left things, was almost intoxicating. He wasn’t sure he had enough self control to pull away from her. He closed his eyes, letting out a long sigh.

“Natash-“

Before he even had a chance to finish breathing out her name she was suddenly pushing herself up onto her toes to press her lips hard against his. He let out a little grunt of surprise when she did, and for a split second his brain wouldn’t let him react.

But then his body was moving of it’s own accord, sliding his hand from her hip around the small of her back, pulling her as close as he could without aggravating her injuries. His other hand slipped into her hair, curling around the shorter pieces at the nape of her neck, angling her upwards. He towered over her, pushing her back down so she was flat on her feet again. Her hand, the one not tightly gripping his jacket, found the hem of his t-shirt, and when her fingertips brushed against his skin he let out an involuntary sigh against her lips.

 _God_ had he missed her, missed the way her skin felt against his, missed the way she melted into him. How she always seemed to relax against him. The taste of her lips and the smell of her hair, just the feeling of her being so close.

“Steve,” she breathed finally, her lips moving against his. “We…we have a lot to…to talk about.”

She pulled back just enough to catch his gaze, and it took every ounce of self control he had not to pull her back. She gazed up at him, her eyes glittering with something that resembled a mix of desire and relief, and the mask she’d worn before - the steady, even expression he knew she’d been working hard to maintain - gone.

“Yeah,” he replied finally, his voice low. She was right. Too much had happened, too much that couldn’t be ignored, as much as he’d have liked to do exactly that. But none of it seemed to matter anymore, not with the way she was gazing up at him, her bottom lip pulled under her teeth, her fist in his jacket holding herself close to him.

“Or…” The hand that was still hovering just underneath the hem of his t-shirt slid upwards, her fingertips brushing gently against his skin and sending warmth through him. She flattened her palm against his abdomen and swallowed thickly, her eyes flitting down to his lips briefly before she met his gaze again. “We can talk later.”

“Later,” Steve agreed, much too quickly. She huffed out a soft laugh that was cut off by lips crashing against hers again. Her hands immediately went to his shoulders and she pushed his jacket off of them. He let go of her just long enough to let it fall to the floor and then he was reaching for her again, sliding his hands down to lift her up off of the floor and turn her towards the bed.

When Natasha woke, it was from a twinge of pain in her side. She let out a soft gasp as her eyes flew open, and immediately felt her midsection stiffen uncomfortably. She’d fallen asleep on her side, and with Steve curled up behind her, his face buried in her hair and his arm draped heavily around her waist keeping her back to his chest, she hadn’t moved at all in her sleep.

She closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath, holding it while she pushed herself around to lay on her back. Her stiff muscles protested as she moved, but once she settled down into the pillows and relieved the pressure it started to fade.

Steve shifted in his sleep after she rolled over, his arm tightening around her waist as he nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck. Natasha closed her eyes again, her lips curving up into a contented smile.

She couldn’t remember the last time she felt so at _peace_ …no Red Room, no Accords, no lingering anxiety over the future. In fact, the last time she could remember was very similar to this exact moment, lying in Steve’s bed while he slept, his warm body curled around her. She hadn’t been in the best place mentally or emotionally then either, but it hadn’t seemed to matter. There, in that moment, nothing mattered; not SHIELD, not Hydra, not the lies piling up in the background. She’d spent so many months running, and finally giving in - finally letting herself be selfish - had been the first thing in a very long time that finally allowed her to feel _happy_. Even though she knew there’d be fallout - which there was - and that the guilt and regret would be nearly unbearable - which it had been, for a while at least - those dark, quiet moments lying with him that first night they spent together had still felt so _easy_.

It still was even now, with all that was looming over them. Everything that had happened in Germany, the government searching for them, that _awful_ argument, the months spent apart, her past coming back to haunt her - _Yelena_ \- none of it seemed to matter. Not at the moment, at least.

Steve let out a sleepy breath, and he stirred again. He gently tightened his grip around her waist and buried his nose farther into her hair.

“You stayed.”

Natasha felt a twinge of guilt at his words. She’d woken up next to him a handful of times, but most of them were the result of either limited options on a mission or nightmares that had sent one of them into the comfort of the other. The one time she’d let herself make the decision not to sneak back to her own room before anyone woke up she’d been hit with a painful dose of role reversal; she’d woken up with him gone, much like he’d done countless times. But she had to have a line, and at least the act of physically leaving him reminded her where that line was.

Not that there had ever really been a line in the first place. Once she’d begun regularly finding herself in his bed, even if it had only been for a handful of weeks before everything went to hell, she knew there was no going back. But at least it had given her some semblance of control. Some reminder that it _had_ to remain what it was, that it couldn’t go any further.

But now? She had no idea anymore.

Natasha let her head fall to the side so she could look over at him. He peeked over at her through one half-lidded eye, his lips curving up into a small, sleepy smile. Natasha smiled back, and when she leaned in to kiss him softly he closed them again.

While she watched him begin drifting back to sleep, the guilt started bubbling back up inside of her. Suddenly none of this seemed right, not with everything they’d postponed hanging over them. When she’d decided to break into his motel room and wait for him, she hadn’t really known what to expect (well, that wasn’t entirely true; they’d never had much control around each other, so she had a very good feeling they’d end up here). She didn’t even know what she _wanted_ anymore, just that she needed to see him…that she needed _him_ , even if she was having a hard time admitting that fact to herself.

But there was too much left unsaid. If she didn’t say something now…

“Steve.”

He reacted slowly, first with a soft, sleepy noise, followed by a hum of acknowledgement. When he didn’t open his eyes Natasha averted her gaze up to the ceiling, her heart pounding heavily in her chest. She could have gone after him so much sooner. Hell, she could have just _stayed_ with him in the first place. She’d spent the last two months putting this off, distracting herself with everything else going on. Steve would always be there, she’d selfishly rationalized. Yelena needed her, which conveniently gave her a reason to hold her ground and not go running back to Steve the second the guilt became too much.

But she couldn’t put it off any longer. She wished she’d thought about what to say to him.

She knew he would fall back to sleep if she didn’t say something. So, finally, she whispered, “I’m sorry.”

He was slow to respond to that too, but when she glanced anxiously back over at him, he was watching her. He averted his gaze when she caught his eye.

“Me too,” he replied softly.

“I should have told you about him.”

Steve avoided her gaze for a few long seconds, and when his eyes finally flicked back up to meet hers, she couldn’t read them. He let out a long breath.

“I overreacted.”

“No you didn’t.” He opened his mouth to argue, but she continued before he could. “After the Battle of New York…I didn’t want to put that on you. And I…” She paused, trailing off and sucking in a deep breath. “It took you so long to finally start trusting me. I knew as soon as I told you-“

“ _Natasha_ ,” he breathed, cutting her off. He reached for her, brushing her hair behind her ear before letting his palm rest on the side of his face. “I’ve _always_ trusted you.”

“You didn’t.” A crease formed between his brows, and Natasha swallowed thickly against the burning in the back of her throat. “Not always, and for good reason. It took me so long to come to terms with the fact that you probably never would. And as soon as you found out what I did-“

“Nat, _none_ of what happened to him was your fault,” Steve cut in. Natasha just sighed and averted her gaze. “Just like none of what happened to _you_ was your fault.”

“I still should have told you,” she muttered lowly, ignoring his statements.

“Maybe.” Her eyes flicked up to meet his again. “But I understand why you didn’t.”

“I didn’t tell you everything.” The words came tumbling out of her mouth before she could stop them. Her heart rate immediately skyrocketed, the voice in the back of her mind telling her to keep it to herself, but the overwhelming guilt too strong to stop herself. She was so _tired_ of keeping things from him.

“What?” Steve asked uncertainly when she didn’t continue. Natasha swallowed thickly and took a deep breath.

“I found him. After SHIELD fell.” Steve frowned, but didn’t interject. “He didn’t want you to find him. He asked me to help.”

She held her breath as he thought that over. He averted his gaze as he put the pieces together. When he finally glanced back up at her he narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.

“So all of those cold leads we were following…” He paused, and Natasha nodded. “We didn’t find him…because of you.”

“He didn’t want you to,” she repeated weakly. She couldn’t tell if he was angry or not. He was usually so easy to read, but now…

“The whole time we were looking for him…you were-“

“A few steps ahead of you,” she admitted softly, but he shook his head.

“Nat…I can’t imagine…” He brushed his thumb lightly across her cheek, his expression softening into something that almost resembled pity. “After everything you’d just been through…and you went _back?_ ”

Natasha gaped at him, unable to process his words. She was expecting him to get angry; she was expecting another argument. She wasn’t expecting him to feel _sorry_ for her.

“You’re not…mad?” she said finally.

“No, Nat, I just…” He let out a long breath. “That must have been awful.”

Something about his words finally got to her. Her bottom lip trembled, and a split second later her eyes stung and her vision blurred. Every single wall that she’d been desperately trying to keep up for the last several months suddenly came crashing down around her. The accords, the Red Room, _all_ of it. She blinked furiously and a tear escaped down her cheek, which Steve promptly wiped away.

“Nat, what happened?” he asked softly, his brow furrowed with concern. He adjusted his hand so he could brush his thumb lightly over the brusing on her temple. Natasha turned her head back towards the ceiling, avoiding the intensity in his gaze and causing his hand to fall away.

“My past finally caught up with me,” she said finally, her voice shaking, the words barely louder than a whisper.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No,” she answered quickly, but immediately regretted it. She took a deep breath and glanced back over at him. He seemed like he was trying to hide his disappointment, but he nodded anyway. “Not yet,” she added softly.

“Okay.” The corner of his lips ticked up into a small smile, but it didn’t last long. “I meant what I said. You could have called me.”

“I know.” She found his hand where he’d dropped it to rest on her midsection and slid her fingers between his.

“I’m sorry,” he continued. Natasha huffed out a humorless laugh and shook her head.

“You don’t need to-”

“I thought…if I pushed you away, I could…I don’t know. Keep you out of it.”

“Steve-“

“I just…I didn’t know what to d-“

“Hey.” Natasha reached for him, letting her palm rest against the side of his face and rubbing the pad of her thumb lightly across his cheek. He met her gaze, his eyes swimming with guilt. “This whole situation, the Accords…there was no right answer. You can’t blame yourself.”

“I tore the Avengers apart,” he replied softly. Natasha rolled her eyes.

“Don’t listen to Tony.”

“He thought I was going to kill him.”

The encouraging words at the tip of Natasha’s tongue faded at his words, barely louder than a whisper.

“What?”

“Tony,” he supplied lowly. He wasn’t looking at her. “In Siberia. I could see it in his eyes. He went after Bucky and I just… _snapped_.”

“Steve,” she breathed, and he finally met her gaze. “Tony can be an ass, but he’d never think-“

“I was just trying to stop him, at first. But then all of it just…” He closed his eyes and let out a long breath. “And then he blasted Bucky’s arm off, and it was like I couldn’t hold myself back. I was so _angry_. And when I destroyed the arc reactor…I just wanted him to _stop_. So I could get Bucky out of there. But the way he looked at me…”

His words came faster and faster as he kept talking, and his voice had begun shaking. Knowing him, he’d probably kept it all to himself all those months. Natasha wondered if he’d even told Sam what had happened.

She was no stranger to that feeling. She’d become an expert at compartmentalizing over the years, and she was used to that overwhelming guilt. But Steve wasn’t. She knew he had things he regretted, but it wasn’t the same. He always did whatever he thought was right. For the greater good. Thinking he was the cause of all of this fallout…it was probably _destroying_ him.

“You did what you thought you had to do,” she said finally. He opened his eyes again and met her gaze. “We _all_ did.”

“Do you regret it?” Natasha frowned. “Letting us go. You said you would regret it.”

“No.”

Relief flashed through his eyes, and she offered him a small smile. He smiled back, but it didn’t last long. It faded from his lips as quickly as it had come, and then he was averting his gaze. Natasha frowned again, her heart thumping anxiously in her chest.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he insisted, much too quickly. His jaw tightened as his eyes flickered back up to meet hers.

“Steve.” He averted his gaze again, but Natasha reached up to rest her palm against the side of his face, guiding his eyes back to hers. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice softening.

He let his gaze linger on hers, and for the second time that night, Natasha couldn’t read them. All she knew was that he looked _terrified_ , and something about that made her uneasy. She’d never seen him like this, and after everything they’d been through, especially recently…she couldn’t imagine what he could be that afraid of telling her.

It wasn’t until the split second that he opened his mouth to speak that it hit her, and she suddenly knew exactly what he was going to say.

“I love you.”

Her first instinct was to panic. To _run_. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t news, that she’d known how he felt about her for years. Him saying the words out loud suddenly made everything so _real_. That line that she hadn’t allowed herself to cross was long gone, too far to reach no matter how quickly she ran in the opposite direction.

But the panic didn’t come. What did was a swelling ache in her heart, so strong it felt like it was about to burst. A fluttering in her stomach she’d only ever felt in her long life because of him. The overwhelming _feeling_ of being loved, of being cared for, so deeply that the words had seemed so natural on his lips.

The only other person to have ever said those words to her and meant it was Clint. But somehow, she realized, this was so _different_. Clint was her best friend, someone who had always been there and who always would be no matter what. But Steve _chose_ her, despite everything they’d been through and everything he knew…and everything he _didn’t_ know. She and Clint were so close because they knew every detail of each other’s dark secrets, but Steve…he didn’t know and didn’t _care_. He still _knew_ her, and he still loved her.

 _He_ _loved her._

The more time passed, the longer she processed this revelation that wasn’t really even a revelation, the more panicked Steve seemed to become. He looked horrified, filled with regret, and Natasha knew if she didn’t respond soon he might explode with the anxiety. She sucked in a deep breath and blinked back the sudden wetness in her eyes, her lips curving upwards as she brushed the pad of her thumb over his cheek.

“I know,” she whispered finally, her words no louder than a breath escaping her lips. Steve continued to look utterly terrified, but relief flooded through his eyes.

“You do?”

“James told me,” she replied softly, and Steve frowned, the gears turning inside his head as he tried to figure out when that conversation had taken place. Natasha smirked and added, “Also, you’re not that subtle.”

The corner of Steve’s lips curved upwards, and he glanced away sheepishly. Even in the darkness, she could tell how red the tips of his ears were.

“I know we’ve talked about this, and…and I’m not expecting anything,” he said softly, his smile fading. “I just…want you to know how much I…care about you.”

“I do,” she said, the words no louder than a breath. She sighed, her heart aching in her chest. “It’s not that I haven’t…thought about it. Because I have. But…I have enemies. A _lot_ of them.” She braved a glance over at him, her eyes stinging once again. “There’s a reason Clint had to keep Laura and the kids a secret. People like us…it’s too dangerous.”

“So...what, you’re just going to spend your entire life alone?”

“If that’s what it takes,” she muttered lowly, “yes.”

“That sounds like a tough way to live.”

The corner of her lips ticked upwards, but it didn’t last. She let out a long breath, averting her eyes back up to the ceiling.

“If it keeps the people I care about safe, then what choice do I have?”

“You can choose to be _happy_.” She glanced over at him again, pulling her bottom lip under her teeth to hold back the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. “If you isolate yourself, just because you’re worried about the consequences, aren’t you just…giving in to the life they wanted for you?”

Natasha opened her mouth to argue, but nothing came out. She could only stare at him, her mind racing.

She wanted to tell him he was wrong. Remind him what they’d done to James, tell him what they’d done to Yelena, to her parents. So many people she’d cared about once upon a time. Her past always caught up with her, one way or another.

 _I’m done running from my past._ Hadn’t she just said those words not two weeks ago? And besides…she didn’t _have_ to let Steve find her. She didn’t have to find _him_. She could have kept running and moved on, let _him_ move on.

But she didn’t. She knew exactly what she was doing when she came here.

She couldn’t find any words, so instead she reached for him, trailing her fingertips down the side of his face. He was watching her carefully, his lips curving up into a hesitant smile when she traced her thumb along his jaw and across his chin. Then she nudged him towards her until he was close enough to press her lips softly against his, her hand shifting back to slide into his hair, keeping him there.

“Come with me,” he mumbled against her lips. He pulled back just enough to peer down at her.

She didn’t even have to think about her answer.

“Okay.”

Steve’s eyes lit up and he grinned, causing Natasha’s heart to swell.

“Really?”

Her jaw tightened as she gazed up at him, but she knew her mind was already made up. Hell, it had been made up _months_ ago.

“Yeah.”


End file.
